Game of Secrets
by TheManyFacesofJester
Summary: An unpaid debt required Merlin to volunteer as a tribute for The Hunger Games. His first main goal, Stay Alive. His second, Keep his secrets. But if he wishes to accomplish one, will he have to abandon the other? Hunger Games/Merlin Cross-Over.
1. The Challenge

Sunlight spilled across the thin bed sheets that covered the lanky servant. Slowly, and with great displeasure, Merlin opened his drowsy eyes. Blinking back unfiltered light; he pulled off his moderately warm covers, and swung out of bed.

Several Minutes later, he was down the short flight of steps from his room to the main part of Gaius' chamber. Gaius was already up and cooking breakfast, which as far as Merlin could tell, was a fairly disgusting clumping of herbs and oats. Swallowing his appetite, the servant began perusing about the room to gather up all of Arthur's things. Helmet, Chest plate, almost set. Sword, laundry, all cleaned and ready.

"Merlin?" Gaius began, quizzically. "Do you have somewhere to be?" He gestured towards a full bowl of mashed breakfast.

"Ah...No." He said, quickly shaking his head as he slumped into the wooden chair. As Gaius watched, Merlin took a large spoonful, and grinned what he hoped was a believable smiled before rapid-fire spitting the mouthful into a napkin the moment Gaius turned away.

After talking Gaius' ear off about how angry Arthur would be if he were late, Merlin finally made his escape.

"Rise and shine!" He shouted as he flung back the dark curtains, filling the chamber with radiant spots of light.

"Ah, Merlin!" Arthur half shrieked as he shoved a pillow over his annoyed face. Then, without warning, he shot out of bed, and flung the of his covers.

"Are my best clothes washed?" Confusion nipping at his expressions, Merlin looked over at the pile of things he had brought back from Gaius' room. Among them was the red leather jacket, and a white Cotton shirt which Arthur had just vaguely referred too. Pulling the folded clothes out of the pile, Merlin handed them to Arthur, who was now just behind the divider.

"What's the occasion?" He asked swinging a pair of brown pants over the divider. Grabbing the pants, the King began to explain.

"Today, a very important guest is arriving." Taking a glance at himself in the mirror, Merlin spoke up.

"Do I have to dress up?"

"Why? Would it really make an improvement?" Arthur's snark caused Merlin to scowl.

"So who is the 'important guest'? Foreign King? Foreign Noble?"

"If you must know it's an old friend of my Father's. Queen Anya." A loud crash echoed the room. Popping his head from around the side, a sneer riddled across his lips, Arthur groaned in displeasure.

"What are you doing?" He said as he saw his breakfast spilled across his floor. Merlin, on the other hand, seemed far more interested in looking at the floor then cleaning up what was on it. Finally shaking his head, Merlin went about cleaning up the mess. But Arthur couldn't help noticing the curious look that had passed across Merlin face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, coming out, fully dressed, from behind the divider. Merlin nodded, as his face flushed back to its normal colour. Deciding it was just Merlin being...Merlin, Arthur stopped in front of the mirror, admiring his chiseled features, and buff figure, before walking towards the door.

"When you're finished with that, meet me in the Throne Room. I want you present when I greet her." As soon as Arthur left, Merlin felt his knees sink to the ground.

Would she remember?

* * *

><p>As Merlin entered the room, he could see Arthur already seated on his Throne. Upon reaching him, Arthur cleared his throat, and jerked his head to the left, indicating where Merlin was supposed to stand. Gaius already stood there, alongside Gwen. As soon as he took his place, the doors began to open, letting in a moderately tall middle-aged woman dressed in rich, but not gaudy clothes. Her lips were tightly pressed as she walked closer to the present King.<p>

"You're Highness." She curtsied, and Arthur bowed his head.

"Queen Anya. It's a pleasure to have you in Camelot." He would have continued but the Queen held up her hand.

"I have not as much time to stay as I would have hoped. I wrote of spending a fort-night, but I am afraid raids on my castle have gotten worse since my husband's death. I am sorry to say I can stay no longer the two days before I am required back at court." Arthur nodded his head in such a manner, that Merlin almost mistook him as looking regal. Yet the Queen continued.

"I was hoping we could settle the matter of our treaty sooner rather than later." As she spoke the words, Arthur rose from his seat.

"I am as eager as you are to renew our treaty. We may begin this evening if time is of the essence." Smiling a curt smile, Queen Anya curtsied once more, and thanks his highness.

"You're very welcome. But you must be tired. My servant, Merlin, will be more than happy to show you to one of our finest guest rooms." He said, gesturing his hand towards Merlin. Swallowing hard, Merlin bowed his head slightly, and her look of disapproval changed to a tight smile.

As Arthur left, the court bowed, before following him out. All except Merlin, and Anya, who remained perfectly still until the room was emptied. No one noticed, nor did they care, that there was a solemn war taking place in each of their minds.

Only when the room was finally clear of all the people, did the Queen move. She walked painstakingly slowly up to Merlin, before circling him like a vulture.

"It's been so long. I hardly recognized you." She almost whispered. "But I am sure you remember me." Merlin's face remained unchanged as she finished her first loop around him.

"I would think you would be more formal towards me. You being in this kind of position." She continued, before pausing momentarily near his right shoulder. "But perhaps you are right. Let us not get caught up in our act and end up liking each other. Perhaps you will be more interested in why I'm here."

"To re-sign a peace treaty with Arthur." He said, sharp, and bluntly. A quick laugh passed through the Queen's lips.

"I see your intelligence is still about the same. Indeed, I am here to re-sign the treaty my husband and Arthur's father wrote. And you must admit, that is a very good excuse for having to come here. No, what I have come for is far more useful to myself. It may even prove useful to you. I am here to clear your name in my Kingdom." For the first time, Merlin's head swerved over to at her, who was now by his left shoulder. He looked closely, before his expression turned skeptical.

"At what price?" Anya began to circle him again, still speaking.

"You remember where you were born. You know the traditions, the festivals, the tournaments. Don't pretend you don't know what day is coming up. What events are about to happen. The danger, the honor, the loss. You know what I am speaking of." He hesitated.

"The Hunger Games."

"Indeed."

"But what has that got to do with me. We left the district."

"Do not suppose running away means you are not eligible. You are just lucky that your name has not been called for the past few years, or they would have found you. But I am afraid that is about to change. You see, as mayor of your district, I am sorry to say that my poor people are starving worse than any other district."

"What am I supposed to do about that?" Merlin asked, worry seeping into his skin.

"We need food. We need a champion." Finally, the circling stopped. As she looked directly at him. Merlin's eyes grew wide.

"What? Are you insane? There is no claiming that I will be picked, and even if I do, the chances of winning are one in twenty-four." He shouted anger coursing through him.

"I don't care how you win," She spat, raising her eyebrows slightly. "But you will do it. And you will not be picked, you will volunteer." Her smile was wide, and wicked.

"Or, I can arrest you right now, and execute you in such a manner as I see fit. Your choice." Merlin began to stalk of towards the door.

"I _will_ see you in the square on reaping day. And you will do as I say, or I can make more than just you pay for not obeying."

He paused, only for a second as he reached the door. He tried to swallow the lump that had appeared in his throat, only to make it worse. He knew he didn't have a choice.

He would be District 7's Tribute. Whether he wanted to or not.

**Fin**

**A/N: Greetings. This is to be a multi-chapter cross-over between Merlin and The Hunger Games. The time difference between both events are enormous, I know, but it is FanFiction, so just use your imagination. I won't be crossing any time-lines, meaning this is all happening in Merlin's Time, and I am afraid I have no official 'ship as of the present moment.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review. I can't get better if you don't tell what I am doing wrong. **

**REVIEW!**


	2. The Departure

The night came all too soon. Merlin lay in heartbreaking silence waiting for the next dawn. Waiting for his last free day to come. It had never really occurred to him how many liberties he had been giving in Camelot. Even if he was washing floors, or catering to Kings, or listening to Dragons, he still had some control over his life.

How exactly would he leave Camelot? Arthur would surely not let him go, even if he was not aware of where he was headed. No, he would not tell Arthur where he was going. Or anyone else for that matter. They might want to believe they can help. Could he leave in secret? He doubted anyone would notice his leaving until they needed him for something. But they would come looking for him if he was gone for too long. What if he died? How were they to know?

A dreary dawn slowly crept of the window ledge, beckoning Merlin to get up. He still had no idea what he was going to say, or do. He could try and lie straight to Arthur's face. For such a poor liar, he was able to get quite a surprising amount of fraudulent information past Arthur.

It was not anywhere near time to wake Arthur up, but Merlin finally came to the conclusion that he was not going to get anymore sleep. Slowly putting on his clothes, and grabbing his bag, he crept out of the room, past a loudly sleeping Gaius, and out the door. The dim grey dawn hardly had strength to touch the ground as he walked around the sleeping castle. He made his way around the hallways he knew all too well, before finding himself to the kitchens. It was empty but for the mice he knew were hiding in the walls, and under chairs.

Searching around, Merlin began to collect an assortment of things he would need for his journey this evening. Bread, salted meat, and a canteen to fill with water all now resided in his mal-packed backpack on top of the extra set of clothes he had packed last night. The dark clouds began to break away and reveal bright yellow sunshine. Funny, you always expect bad things to happen with thunderstorms, and hurricanes in the sky, and yet today to everyone else was nothing more than an average day. A slight pang of jealously hit Merlin as he began to the trudge back to his room. Why did these things always have to happen to him? Why should the rest of the world be allowed to reside in bliss and prosperity?

Finally reaching his room, he found Gaius was still sleeping, giving him time to drop off the packed bag in his room, and head of to wake Arthur. It was earlier than normal, but he decided with Arthur's hectic schedule, he would need some extra time to discuss his leaving. Swinging open the King's curtains, Merlin let the light dip onto Arthur's bed, but felt less compelled to continue with his usual wake-up greeting. A groan filled the room as Arthur slowly opened his eyes to stare blankly at Merlin.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you up." Merlin said rather bluntly.

"What time is it?" Arthur asked in a straight monotone. Merlin took a short look outside the window before replying.

"I think five."

"And what time are you supposed to get me up at?"

"Between Six-Thirty and Seven."

"Right, well then wake me up when we reach that." Arthur replied, sweeping his sheets over his head and turning to the side. Biting his lips Merlin cleared his throat.

"Sire…"

"What?" Was the muffled reply.

"I did have a reason for waking you up early."

"Was it so you could get a kick up the backside, because that's the only outcome I'm predicting."

Ignoring Arthur's comment Merlin decided to continue.

"I need to leave Camelot for a little while." Arthur finally pulled the sheets off of his head.

"How little is this while?" He asked pulling himself up with a groggy yawn.

"Um…A while."

"Yes, thank you. Couldn't have figured that one out by myself." Rubbing his eyes Arthur finally got out of bed. "How long will you be gone?" Merlin thought for a moment.

"I'm not really sure. I guess a few weeks." Arthur swerved to look at him.

"A few weeks? What could you need to leave Camelot for that would take a few weeks?"

"Um, just something I said I'd do." The King's face began to look quizzical.

"And that something would be…?" He badgered for the answer but Merlin remained silent. After a few moments of that Arthur replied,

"If you're not going to tell me then no, you can't go." He began to turn away, but Merlin was not finished.

"I'm sorry Arthur, but I'm here to tell you, not ask your permission." He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he had to leave and Arthur had to understand that.

"Excuse me? I give orders here. And you're not leaving unless I say so." And with that, The King huffed off, leaving the matter be. Merlin might have said more, but a sudden thought crossed his mind. Perhaps Arthur does not have to be made to understand. So long as he knew that Merlin went somewhere of his own free will, he would not go looking for him. Feeling mildly reassured, Merlin set off to collect the King's breakfast.

But before he left, Merlin saw a dragon crest resting on the desk. It looked like it had been recently torn from one of the guards capes, as it still had scraps of red cloth still attached to the rims. Remembering what had been said about wearing something to represent to District, Merlin quickly swiped it as he exited the room.

The stars just barely shone as Merlin crept hurriedly over to the horse stables. As soon as he entered, he began to search for a horse to take him to District 7. He would have to be careful about choosing one that would not be missed. However, much to Merlin's contempt, each horse appeared to be spoken for by the Camelot Knights. Closing his eyes, he bit down hard on his bottom lip. There was no way he could walk all that way without a horse.

It was then that a loud bang interrupted his train of thought. Panic set in as he jumped frantically behind a particularly large horse. Slowing his breathing, which had rapidly picked up, Merlin listened to hear who was there. But much to his surprise, nothing came closer, but the sound did come again. Poking his head around the side of the horse he was currently behind, he felt a wave of shame pass through him. The noise which he had heard was not coming from the door, but from a private stall in the back. And Merlin knew which horse it was. The noble black stallion that had been rung in several weeks past. Arthur had wanted to claim it for himself, but stallions are known to be severely dangerous, and had refused to let anyone so much as saddle it.

The stallion once more kicked at the door, neighing loud and sharp. Merlin swallowed hard as he looked around. It was the only unclaimed horse in the stable, and he needed to make it in time for Reaping Day. Tip-Toeing over, Merlin thought back on all the knowledge he had of horses. After all, he had spent many hours cleaning up after them, feeding them; he had to have some sort of idea about taming it enough to ride. But nothing came to mind. As he approached the door, Merlin carefully peered in. The proud horse whinnied loudly, sending Merlin reeling. Yet he still walked back. Reaching his hand in, and touching the horse briefly Merlin whispered

"_Placida Anima tua…" _His eyes flashed gold and at once the horse stopped its motion. Staring at Merlin, the horse poked its nose towards him. It had worked. But it would last very long. Quickly putting a bridal on, Merlin reached for the saddle, but was stopped by the Stallions nose.

"I have to put this on you." He said softly. The horse then proceed to use its head to knock the saddle out of his hands. He tried again, only to have it once more removed from his hands. Giving an exasperated sigh, Merlin began to tug the horse outside. Closing his eyes, he heaved himself up onto the stallion, with only a few grunts from his ride. Checking to make sure his bag was safe on his back, he gave a light kick to the horses side. As soon as he did he felt his hair whipping his face as he bolted for the gates of Camelot. He had to grab the poor horse's hair as he struggled to stay on. Maybe taking the stallion was the best thing to do. He was comforted by the knowledge that he would get there on time, even early at this rate.

Then he remembered where he was going, and that comforting feeling disappeared.


	3. The Reaping

**A/N: Three things. **

**The Horse is symbolic.**

**Each name is a clue.**

**Anti-Character's are my passion.**

* * *

><p>Whipping by trees, the former servant to the King felt his stomach plummet. Reaching the top of a nameless hill, Merlin could see the large gates of District 7 looming high over the tall trees that resided inside. It was hardly a long ride, and would take him but a few hours to reach his final destination. Merlin could not wish for a shorter ride to doom.<p>

It could not be any later then four o'clock by the time Merlin neared the large gates. Keeping a safe distance, Merlin finally pulled himself off of his horse and allowed his feet to plant on the ground before tumbling into a heap at the foot of a tree. Sweat dripped down his nose as he relaxed a moment.

Breathing deeply, Merlin began to think. He had to plan how he would get into the District. The initial step of getting inside the District would be by far the easiest. No, it was the critical step of what to do next that he had to worry about. Where exactly was he supposed to go after he had gotten in? Surely no one would allow him to stay with them, as he knew no one there, and reaping day had a way of bringing out the worst in people. Putting more thought on the matter, Merlin wondered if he needn't get inside today at all. It was no better in there then it was out here.

Merlin did detest camping of any sort, almost as much as he disliked hunting. Yet as he was to be hunting anyways, he had found that camping was one less thing he should worry about. Shuffling his things closer to him, he had set his mind to sleeping on the outside of the gate. Maybe then he could get some sleep.

It was not yet dawn when Merlin woke. The sky was dim with dreary clouds that only early mornings bring. When had mornings become such curses? Taking a sharp inhale with his nose, and rubbing his eyes, he set to work assembling himself. He had one clean pair of clothing left that he put on before shoving anything around him that was his into the bag he had brought with him, while munching on his last piece of bread. Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he turned to the horse he had stolen to bring him here. What to do with him? He could not take it with him. He would attract far too much attention. But he could not take it home either. The best he could do was simply set it free. Sighing, he set to work untying the creature from the tree. But even when he let the reigns drop, he did not go.

"Go on." He commanded, pushing the horse's nose. Still, the horse remained where it stood. Shaking his head, Merlin simply started towards District 7, only to be followed by the dark stallion. With a sigh, Merlin turned to around.

"Fine, you can come along." He spoke to the horse. "Just try to act… average." The horse snorted, causing Merlin to momentarily consider that horse could understand him before they set off again.

Earlier the night before Merlin had planned how he was going to enter through the gates. Given his talents, it would be no trouble at all. Upon reaching an unguarded bit of gate, Merlin carefully whispered

"_Flectere ad meam voluntatem."_ A flash of gold and the gate rods stretched open wide enough to walk through. First pushing the horse in, Merlin followed close behind. As he entered, the gate rods wobbled and squirmed back to their original position. For most Districts, on any side you entered you would be greeted by a town or city. But this was District 7, and that meant trees. Pushing his way across the forest, Merlin found himself in strangely familiar territory. He remembered going through this forest when he was younger. Biting his lip, he continued until he reached an end of the wood. Strictly speaking, he didn't reach the end, but he could hear the loud din of voices coming from a common area. He knew what he had reached. The town center. The Reaping was about to begin.

Stumbling out of the forest, what he now supposed was his horse following, both headed to the square. Parents were lined up on the outside rim as a large fence separated the children, who were just now filling in. Finally stopping his horse, Merlin calmly walked where the masses were gathering. His breath had speed up, and that lump in his throat had returned. No one questioned him, as hardly anyone noticed. They were all too busy watching their children, or the stage, or their feet. All of them were dressed in their finest clothes, but Merlin could care less about his appearance at this point. Standing next to a pudgy red-headed boy who was busily gnawing his fingernails off, Merlin too looked towards the stage.

Sitting to the right of the podium was the Mayor of District 7, was Queen Anya. She was clearly looking for Merlin, but had yet to spot him. Sitting to the left of the podium, behind the two glass balls that held all those names, were the previous winners. District 7 had won rarely, as the careers usually went home alive in their stead, but there were a few champions.

There were two men, and one woman. The first man, Alfred Stone, was at least seventy, and had fallen asleep on the second man's shoulder, which Merlin identified as Silas Greene. Alfred had been champion many years before, and had only won because all his opponents had frozen to death.

Silas, on the other hand, who had been thirteen years pasts champion, was a monster of a man, and had reasonably crushed all his opponents. Shaking his shoulder viciously, Silas woke Alfred with a start from his peaceful sleep. The women Merlin had never seen, but he had heard of her.

Elodie, who like Merlin was given no Surname, had won five years ago. Of the previous champions, she was the only one who had been praised for her knowledge, and her cause of winning based on her intellect. It certainly was not due to her strength, as she was quite small, regardless of her age.

Suddenly, Merlin's attention was turned to the podium. Standing before him was Queen Anya or Mayor Lucerine as he supposed she was known here, ready to begin the Reaping. She went on for a bit about history, and then moved on to introduce the past winners. Each one in turn stood up at their respectful time, and in turn the crowd had to bow as if they were Gods. Out of respect, Merlin did this. They were chosen like everyone else, and had miraculously survived. If that was not the work of Gods, Merlin didn't know what was.

Finally, after a long speech about how wonderful the capital was, she called Fievel Shenadoah, District 7's escort, to the stage. He had just been promoted 4 years ago as escort, so Merlin had never seen him, but he had heard a little about him. Most District escorts were wild in there dress, and Fievel was no different, though he had his own style. Black hair hung down in strands, almost in front of his dark brown eyes. His outfit consisted of tight black pants, long sleeved black shirt, and chain bracelets adorning his hands, accentuating the dark black polish that covered his nails.

"Morning Ladies and Gents," He began, peering through his matted hair. "And Good Luck to you all." And that was it. No flowing speech, no proclamation. His voice almost calmed Merlin. It was not bubbly in anticipation, nor was it solemn at the events that were to pass. It just… was, and that was all. But that moment of tranquility ended the moment Fievel made his way over to the glass balls resting on the table in front of Queen Anya.

"Let's start with the ladies shall we?" He said reaching his pale hand into the ball filled with hundreds of girl's names. Pulling out a slip of paper he walked briskly back to the podium. Quickly licking his bottem lip, he read the name.

"Deirdre Daill." The crowd turned looking for the poor soul who had been chosen. Looking over, Merlin could see someone making their way to the stage. Tall and slender, with blonde hair and green eyes, Deirdre stood before the audience her head held high. Merlin imagined all tributes to be upset or angry, or ever disappointed, yet she was not any of that. In fact, from his vantage point, she seemed almost proud. Glad of the attention, and, God forbid, Honor. Standing up on the stage, she stays to the left of Fievel. The two exchange a casual 'bow and curtsy' before he heads towards the second ball filled with the boys names.

Merlin's knuckles were white from holding his hands into fists. He knew what he had to do. Seven pieces of paper in that large ball had 'Merlin' written on them, but that wasn't enough. His breath was taken in short stiff intervals as he moved one step forward. Something was pounding in his ears, and it wasn't until his mouth was open that he realized it was his heart beat.

"I volunteer." He swallowed. Louder. "I volunteer as tribute for District 7." The crowd turned to face him. Fievel paused, his hand almost touching the papers with names written on them. Names of those who are free another year. All except those seven little papers reading 'Merlin.' Fievel turned towards the Mayor, who held her composure very well for how pleased Merlin knew she was. She spoke nothing, but merely nodded her head. Bowing, the young escort turned back to look at the strange volunteer.

"Come up." He almost whispered. Yet it could have been a scream for the silence that had filled the area. Slow, steady steps he took on his way through the crowds, up the steps, almost there; across the stage, past the Queen, and finally standing right next to Deirdre. A curt bow was shared between Merlin and his escort as Mayor Lucerine read the Treaty of Treason, but no one was listening. They were all watching Merlin. Maybe even silently thanking him for sparing their children, or their friends, or themselves. But Merlin would never know as this was the last time he would ever visit District Seven.

As the Mayor finished and returned to her seat, she motioned for the two tributes to shake hands. Merlin had not noticed when he entered the stage how terribly vexed Deirdre looked. Her attention, her moment of glory snatched. But Merlin saw in an instant that she intended to take it back.

"Ladies and Gents, I present to you District Sevens Tributes. Let the Games begin."


	4. The Arrival

As the crowd began to dispatch, Fievel helped to escort the two tributes into the mayor's house, which was just behind them. It wasn't a castle, merely a large manor comfortable enough for someone of wealth. Each tribute was led to a separate room for their final good-byes. Sitting down in a gold threaded chair, Merlin simply stared at his feet. No one would come to say good-bye. He suddenly felt a pang of regret, as he wished he could have spoken with his mother. Who would tell her he was gone?

As he thought, he wondered if Deirdre had anyone with her now. Most likely. He thought he had seen someone crying as she walked to the stage. He sat there almost an hour, fiddling with his thumbs, silence biting his ears. Finally, an armed guard brought him outside, where he was greeted by the sound of loud horse neighing. A short distance away from the door, Merlin saw a stallion trying to be reined in by a few stable boys.

"This one tried to follow you in. Is he yours?" Turning sharply Merlin was once again greeted by Fievel. Nodding, his escort put two fingers in his mouth a whistled hard. "Let him go!" Each boy gladly let go and stepped back as the horse nonchalantly made its way back to Merlin.

"Can he come with me?" Merlin asked, wondering how they would be getting to The Capital. Fievel looked at the horse, then Merlin a few times before shrugging his shoulders.

"We will be riding in carriages, and you'll have to have a guard next to you, and if you try to run, you will be shot on sight, but I don't see why not. Give one of our horses a break." He said calmly looking over at the carriage that Deirdre was climbing into, and then signaled a guard to look after Merlin. "I'll be riding in a separate carriage from you and Miss Daill. Were you riding in a carriage, you would be seated with one of the previous winners, but as you're not-"

"I can ride next to him. So it's fair." Both men turned to see Elodie with her horse. "I don't like carriages anyways." She really was very small. Her black hair covered most of her pale face, which was normally faced down to the floor, as her small horse towered over her tiny height. Merlin knew she was chosen as tribute when she was twelve, and was now just barely seventeen, though her size made her appear much younger. He couldn't help feeling bad for her the young girl.

Looking to Fievel, the escort gave a curt bow to Elodie, and then walked off to his own carriage. As he helped Elodie onto her horse, Merlin noticed Silas climbing into the carriage that Deirdre was in. He was suddenly glad he had Elodie with him. While Deirdre would be getting moderately useful information on how to crush your opponents, he might learn something useful about surviving.

At last the party started to move. It would take a while to get there, but Merlin wished it would take longer. Elodie had some difficulty keeping up with him, but they eventually found the right pace.

Merlin and Elodie remained quiet a few moments before they actually began to talk. For the beginning of the trip they discussed everything except The Games. The weather, where they were from, family members, friends, anything that could be discussed was. Until finally they got to a point where they had nothing else left to say. After much silence, they did get around to discussing the games.

They stuck to the topic of survival mainly. What to eat, what not to eat, where to find food, how to keep warm if it's a cold environment, how to keep cool if its hot, where to sleep, when to sleep, and the like. Merlin was glad to know that his mentor was well versed for any setting he might be put in. It didn't make him feel better, but he did feel a bit safer. She steered away from talking about anything of a lethal nature, though Merlin knew enough about killing to make anything she would have said simply irrelevant.

The group took camp every night for three days. Merlin and Deirdre were made to sleep as far from each other as possible, least one of them decided to lessen the competition, so to speak.

On the dawn of the fourth morning, just as they had set off, the grand Capital came into view. It would be only a few hours before their trip would end. Merlin grew paler as they approached, yet Deirdre remained poised, and flush, preparing herself to fit in in a place of grandeur. She looked fairly confident, and Merlin prayed he hadn't missed any truly important information given by Silas.

After getting off their horses and walking the rest of the distance with armed guard on either side of them, Fievel leading the way, Merlin and Deirdre arrived a large stone building, shaped like a giant chess rook. Both tributes were lead in separate directions by their own very excited Prep Team. Merlin was then stripped of his clothes and forced to suffer through the grooming team. They did what they could, though not much was to be done. A lengthy shave, and a fine haircut, along with a scented bath was all they really had to do. It would have been bearable has they not talked the entire time about the last team they had groomed from this District, and how painful it was to watch them die, though apparently their deaths were incredibly fascinating as they went into great detail describing them to him. His stomach left upside-down, the team finally left, allowing a tall woman to enter. Her eyelashes were enormous and sparkling blue, to matcher her long silver hair, that touched her ankles.

"You must be Merlin. I'm Ilona, your personal stylist." Nodding his head, the woman looked him up and down. "We have only about twelve hours before you are presented to the world in the opening ceremony. Your costume represents you, and your District. It has to catch the eye of every sponsor watching. A few ideas bounded around our head while Beaux and I were deciding on what you should wear, but after seeing you, I think we have decided."

Merlin followed her words, nodding his head appropriately, though he could never understand how a costume made the difference between sponsors, or otherwise. Still, he knew it was important that he made an impression. But what could one do with lumber? In a previous year, they had dressed up both tributes as logs, making them look rather ridiculous, and scoring a record low of sponsors.

"We really want to stress the tree factor, as that is what Lumber comes from. That means a lot of brown, and green. Alright, are you ready to start?" He must have nodded because off she set, pulling out different dyes and such.

After many hours, Merlin was finally allowed to look in a mirror. He was actually quite shocked with the result. From his lower neck up, the theme was green. Green colouring was added above his eyes, swirling and twisting all the way to his temples. Drops had been put in his eyes to chemically turn them to a dark green. His lips were not completely painted green but merely each line in his lips was filled with green ink. His hair was still brown, but green dye had been put in many locations, giving it a tree top feel of green with brown, rather than the other way round. A green shimmer of sorts had been added to his face and neck, giving it a green tint, without actually turning him green.

Yet bellow his neck, the theme changed slowly to brown. Wooden thorns worked their way up from his left leg to his right shoulder, the down to his wrist, curving around his body. From his right leg to his left shoulder, leather painted like bark had been cut so it too swirled up his body, little bits of it curling off, covering the parts of him that need be covered. One fourth of his left side, from his left shoulder to his left leg was covered in brown and tan paint, making it look almost like a tree trunk.

For accessories he had a necklace made out of a small branch, with delicate leaves painted on it, and for shoes he wore bash sandals, the left one ornate with thorns, the other with twigs and bark.

Merlin couldn't believe how strangely beautiful he looked. There was no other way to describe him. Pulling him away from the mirror, Ilona lead him outside to where the chariots were waiting. The two stood there only a few moments before they were joined by who Merlin assumed was Beaux, and Deirdre.

The female tribute looked almost the same as him, save a few changes. Her neck up the make-up was a mirror image to Merlin's, her long blond hair now dusty brown with green, and her upper torso was almost identical, but from her waist down, the leather and thorns formed into a tight dress, rather than the pant-like design that Merlin wore.

Following the two was Fievel, Silas, Alfred, and Elodie.

"You have 20 minutes left before you go out." Fievel explained. Silas took this chance to walk over to Merlin.

"Now listen Boy, all you want to do is get sponsors. So be anything but yourself for this crowd. People won't like who you are now, so you have to stop bein' you. See, me, I was lucky, and got sponsors just for bein' me. I'm a genuine artifact, I am. The sponsors were jumpin' to help me. Not that I needed it, as you can see. I was tellin' Deirdre, I says, if I had gotten any more sponsors, I would have won the game twice!" At this point he clapped his hand to Merlin's back, causing Merlin to jolt forward, allowing the thorns he was wearing to catch on his skin. Soft trickles of blood began to run down Merlin's chest and back. Silas shrugged his shoulders and walked off as Beaux and Ilona rushed over.

"Oh, what a mess…" Beaux complained, as he pulled a few thorns from Merlin's skin. It wasn't very painful, just a few nicks, but it was making a terrible mess. Blood leaked into the leather, causing the paint to stain a bright red.

The two stylists hurried to try and clean the outfit, and treat his wounds, but were cut off by an announcer yelling loudly that

"All Tributes must be in the chariots, and in line, ready to be called out. The Opening Ceremony will be beginning in 5 minutes!" Blood still coming in small rivulets down his chest, back and now arms, he was set in his spot on his chariot and told to simply "Grin and Bear it." Along with an unconvincing "Nobody will notice."

As the music started and the tributes for District One rolled out, Merlin debated back and forth using Magic to stop the blood, but with Deirdre so close, and so many people around, he knew he couldn't risk it.

"Idiot…" He whispered looking over at Silas, who was currently checking out the girl from District Five. Coming from the other end of the tunnel the tributes had to go through, he could hear the two announcers shouting over the crowds of people he knew were there, discussing District One, now Two, then Three's outfits.

Finally the District Sevens chariot was moving through the large tunnel. Heart racing he stared at the blood that had dripped onto the floor, and was now flying off the chariot as the rode faster. Finally, Merlin could see the light of hundreds of torches lighting up the Ceremony area so the thousands of people in the audience could see the Tributes.

Usually the crowd cheered when a District entered, and they did the same for Seven, for a few moments. Then the audience went quiet and looked. It was at this moment that Merlin realized that they were all staring at him. Blood covered, with thorns all over him, leaving a trail of red behind him. With nothing else to do, Merlin raised his hand and waved, smiling to the crowd.

And the whole audience burst into cheers. Listening hard, Merlin heard the announcers.

"I have never seen anything like this. After last years terror of an outfit, District Seven has really pushed the limit! The outfit itself is stunning, but Thorns there is really strutting his stuff. Blood and all, this boy is winning the audience."

"I think it really shows what these games are about. Working through the pain, and finding something to smile for. Simply spectacular. I think Thorns down there is really proving his worth."

Merlin wondered how exactly these people became as stupid as they are, but still he smiled and waved. The more he waved, and the more blood flew off his arm, the more the crowd cheered. Pain equals applause, no wonder all these people liked to watch these games.

As the chariot slowed down, Merlin and Deirdre arrived in from of the Kings castle. King Snow quieted the audience and began his speech. Sighing, Merlin knew he had done well. The crowd had loved him, and that was always positive. Sponsors went for the ones the audience would like to see die the least.

But not everyone was so pleased. Looking to his right he could see Deirdre was fuming. He had once more stolen her glory. Not that it was his fault, if anything Silas was the one to blame. But that's obviously not how she saw things.

As the King finished his speech, the chariot took one last parade around before heading back through the tunnel. The crowd cheered louder when District Seven rolled by, Merlin still waving to the crowd.

Finally, the chariot arrived back through the tunnel, greeted by District Sevens fairly large party of people. Stumbling and dizzy, Merlin climbed out of the chariot before passing out on the floor, his entourage rushing to clean up the blood that he was still losing.

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><p><strong>Okay, so a couple things. Yes, Merlin's horse is relevent, it is symbolic, so it's important.<strong>

**If you notice, Merlin has never looked in a mirror in any season, and I can't imagine that he has ever "gotten pretty" for any reason. So, yes, Merlin admires himself for a moment. A bit OOC, but it was with reason.**

**I didn't like it either, but I have to make Merlin popular. He has to be vaugly interesting to the audience, so I had to do it. It felt very odd, and off, so I apologize for that.**

**I had to stress that Silas is an idiot, so that whole tyraid he gave was just to set the stage for him. It may never come up again.**

**President Snow's a King. I didn't feel compelled to change his name, as he will be mentioned very few times, and I changed it to King because they didn't have Presidents in Merlins time.**

**A lot of people have asked me to write a chapter about how Arthur reacts after Merlin leaves. I will have this chapter, but it will be a bit later in the story, as I need the story to be at a certain point before I re-introduce Arthur, and anyone else. But it will happen, I promise. **

**Thanks For Reading, and Please Review. **


	5. The Training

With one great thrust of energy, Merlin opened his eyes. Drowsy, and blinking, he rubbed his palm to his forehead. As he raised his arm he felt a pain in his upper torso. Looking down, he found his chest wrapped in white bandage.

"Morning." Looking up, Merlin found Fievel sitting in a chair across the room from him. He must have seen the confused look on Merlin's face, as he continued. "We've been taking turns watching you. Making sure you didn't move the wrong way and start bleeding again."

"We?"

"Elodie, Ilona and I. The physicians are too busy setting up their training stations, so we volunteered." Merlin nodded wearily, trying to ignore the pain that was climbing up his core.

"Wait!" He shouted, the words spoken finally processing in his mind. "Training. Training starts today!" Cursing under his breath, he pulled his legs over the side of the bed, before keeling over to hold his burning stomach.

"Take it easy. You have a few hours to get yourself ready. You are still going to training, just be careful. Don't push yourself to hard. I would normally suggest you have breakfast in here, but I doubt you would listen. I'll help you get properly dressed, then show you to breakfast."

Merlin wasn't really used to having someone help him get dressed. He was put in a thick brown shirt, obviously padded with leather for protection, dark brown pants and sturdy climbing boots; or what he assumed was to be his wardrobe for the next few training sessions. Finally dressed, he managed to get to breakfast only a few minutes late.

"About time." Silas grumbled, his head bent low over a plate of ham. Biting his tongue to hold back the arsenal of insults that was forming in his throat, he pressed on towards his seat. The table was set up so Merlin was next to Elodie on his left and Alfred on his right, with Deirdre across from him, and Silas next to her. Glad to be as far from the idiot as possible he turned to talk to Elodie about training, only to be interrupted by Silas.

"Now, you lot. Trainin' starts in a few hours, and you need to show them what you're worth. The better you do, the less they bother you. 'At's what I did. Showed 'em who's boss. All ran when they saw me comin', they did. They never had a chance." He want on a bit more about how he successfully managed to frighten a twelve year older when he was training before turning to Merlin. "Now, Deirdre here has already been gifted with words of wisdom from my superior intelligence durin' the ride 'ere. Now, we wouldn't want you to fall behind because you don't know what to do out there in the arena."

"Elodie gave me a lot of useful advice on the ride here. I think that can compensate." Merlin snapped.

"Yes, but she's a women. We can't trust 'er to tell you anythin' useful." Mortified for Elodie, he jerked forward, probably to hit the idiot, but a hand grabbed his arm before he could, and pulled him back to his seat. Turning he saw Elodie nod gently, her eyes warning him. _Let it go._

Silas, apparently ignorant to Merlin's building fury continued.

"I say you and I do private coachin', and Deirdre gets a little time to relax from real work while coachin' with the Woman."

"I'm fine thanks. I prefer her over you." Merlin spat disdainfully. This only resulted in laughter from Silas.

"Wantin' to be with a woman for your last few days. A man after me own 'eart. Need somethin' to get you to sleep at night!" Thoroughly disgusted, Merlin turned to Fievel.

"When can I start training?" His voice cracked as he tried to reel in the hate that was pounding in his stomach.

"After breakfast you may head down to the Training Center. Training won't have begun yet, but it can give you a chance to see what you're up against."

"Try and find the Careers, and then watch then closely. If you can figure out their strengths, you can figure out their weaknesses. That will help in the long run." Elodie told him as he rose from the table. Grabbing a piece of bread from the middle of the table, he walked out the door, and down the stairs.

After asking a passing person where the Training Center was, Merlin managed to find his way. Long, towering hallways made of stone made him feel small as he walked towards a giant door. Two guards pulling it open for him, he went inside.

Much like the training centers in Camelot, it was well equipped with the finest weaponry. Though in the back Merlin could see small stations dedicated to an assortment of other things such as medical, knot tying, and climbing. Turning left of him, Merlin finally noticed a small group of people sitting huddled at a table. Curious for a moment, he came to realize that the group must have been the Careers. As the doors behind him closed with a thud, the group turned to see who had entered. A few laughed, and several scoffed before turning back to their conversation. Merlin was not welcome here.

The next hour or so Merlin spent watching the Careers, trying to hear what they were saying. He heard close to nothing as more and more people entered the center. Deirdre had come soon after him, but instead of watching the Careers, she was watching him. It was off-putting at first, but he eventually found it to be an ego boost. She wanted to know what he was doing.

Finally an instructor approached the Tributes. He explained where everything was, and stressed how important it was to take the survival courses. Finally he allowed the group to begin training.

Merlin knew he should have gone to learn about climbing, or hiding, but he figured he had enough of those lessons from Elodie. A little too proud of himself, he went towards the bow and arrows. He had used a few of them before when he was younger and had used it once when he was in Camelot. He pulled out a bow and arrow and aimed for the target. He figured the worst he could do was miss the target.

Slowly he pulled back, but he couldn't hold the arrow against the rope, and before he knew what was happening, the arrow snapped out of his hand and whacked him in the nose. Holding his hand to his face, a loud cheer of laughter taunted his failure. His ears burning red he stumbled over to a wall and sat down against it, trying to swallow his humiliation. He was quite sure that the few people who missed his arrow attempt were now being informed, as another high pitched laugh squeaked through the training center. He was almost positive he could feel someone's finger pointing at his hovelled figure.

The rest of the day did not go any better; neither did the day after that. After he had regained his courage to start training again he suffered several more failed attempts at basically everything. He poured a forest of green paint down his shirt, cut his hand trying to pick up a dagger, almost chopped his foot off with an axe, and fell at least 3 feet off a rope latter, to name a few. Each time he went back to his quarters, he watched as Deirdre talked of her wonderful successes, never leaving out all of Merlin's public failures. And each time Silas managed to insult him as well.

After two days of grueling, painful, worthless training, the final day was reached. For all his mistakes, he could actually have a chance at getting a fairly high score with the Gamemakers.

"Throw a few things, play with a sword, and maybe climb something," was his advice from Elodie, while Ilona and Fievel simply offered words of encouragement. Alfred was too busy sleeping to give any luck and Silas could care less. It was obvious he had given up on trying to help Merlin. Taking a deep sigh, he set off. All he had to do was not screw up.

Well, that isn't exactly how it went down. After sitting for an enormous amount of time he finally went into the Center to find half of the makers drunk and the other half busy getting there. Grinding his teeth, he decided that he was most likely to hurt himself if he tried to throw anything, and he didn't want to think about climbing again, so he went towards the swords. They were the only thing he had done fairly well with during training. It was reassuring to know that not all the training he had done with Arthur had been in vain.

Getting a feel for one of the weapons he began to hit one of the targets dummies. He was doing fairly well, and had gotten the attention of a few Gamemakers. Deciding he had done this long enough, he attempted to stab the sword into the false stomach. Unfortunately, Merlin's footwork did not match his hands, and he stupidly tripped as he was lunging. Drunken Laughter filled the area as Merlin climbed onto his knees and dusted himself off. Feeling like an idiot, he bowed, mostly to hide his burning cheeks, and quickly as he could walked out of the room.

Arriving at his room he slammed the door hard as he could. The scores wouldn't arrive on for a few hours but he didn't care. He didn't want to see them, and he didn't want to be here, he just wanted to go home. Pressing his head against his fore arm and leaning against the door, he took a few shaky breaths.

He could get passed this. He still had the interview to go, and that could score some better points. Sponsors send to those who the people like, and the people seemed to like him the first time he saw them. Standing up straight, he realized the sun was no longer shining through his window. Swallowing, and running his hands through his hair, he stepped out the door. Dinner might help to dull the pain that his body still felt after his multiple injuries during the past few days, and eventually he would have to see what his score was.

Exiting his room, he found himself dangerously close to walking into Fievel.

"Merlin, I was about to get you. The scores are due to arrive soon, and you should have something eat." Leading Merlin to the table, both took their regular spots. After a few mouthfuls of pork, a knock came from the door. Fievel moved to receive the scores, but Silas beat him to it, rising from his chair and dashing to the door. A muffled conversation, and one slam of a door later Silas came back to the dining hall, the cream white letter torn form both ends reading the scores to himself. Deirdre seemed impatient to know her score, but Merlin could not have any less anticipation. After a moment of Silas standing still with his mouth open, Fievel managed to pull the paper from him and turned to read it. He skipped over One to Six and read aloud District Sevens scores.

"Deirdre Daill. Score Eight." Silas smiled toothily at the young blonde as the rest of the room applauded lightly. Waving her hair back and forth, Deirdre took in all the attention she could.

"Merlin. Score Four." The room was a bit silent as Merlin shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. He knew he was getting a low score, so it didn't affect his as much as he thought it would. Fievel paused a moment before reading the rest of the scores. A boy from District One received a Ten, which ticked Deirdre off, and the girls from Two and Three both got Sevens, while both boys received Eights. The rest was mixed between Six and 8.

Merlin had gotten the lowest score by far.


	6. The Interview

**A/N: Thank you for your patience, and your reviews. I'm inspired by both.**

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><p>"Now, what are we goin' to do with you?" Merlin and Silas sat across from each other at the large dining table. Much to his dismay, Silas had demanded that the two of them do private coaching before the interview. Merlin previously hoped that last nights scores would have put to rest any ideas of helping him, yet it had only made the idiot more eager to "fix 'im up right." Now the two of them were stuck alone as the both tried to think how they were going to make up for yesterday's failure.<p>

"You can't 'ave you acting like yourself. Lot o' good that's done you already. But you can't pull off smart, or strong. O' course I played off my strength when it were my time. Should 'ave seen me. Scared me interviewer 'alf to death!" And with a hearty laugh he continued to talk more of how he had shown off his strength to the crowd by lifting the poor interviewer, and used him as a weight.

Annoyed and exhausted, Merlin covered his face with his hands. This was neither useful nor helpful information. It made him wish even more he was with Elodie, or even Alfred. Both could have helped him more that the giant oaf that was chattering away before him. He was just going to have to figure this out on his own.

"Are you even listenin'?" Merlin was suddenly aware that Silas had stopped talking.

"Um…" Shaking his head, Silas mashed his teeth together and leaned in towards Merlin.

"When I'm talkin', you'd better be listenin'. I'm not talkin' to 'ear the sound on my own voice!" Merlin was tempted to contradict that last remarked, but thought it better to keep his mouth shut.

"Now, where was I?" The larger man said as he pulled himself back into a normal sitting position. "Ah, right, 'ave you got any real redeemable qualities?" Merlin tried to think. But there wasn't much. Laundry and polishing weren't going to help. The only thing he had ever had was his Magic. It was the only part of him that had made him different, though not altogether better. However, magic was hardly going to help him win over a crowd. Not trusting his mouth enough to be open, Merlin shrugged his shoulders, half cringing as he did.

His body was aching with every movement he made. He still had puncture marks in his flesh from where the thorns had poked through his skin, along with an assortment of scraps, scratches, cuts, bruises, and other unseen injuries that were causing his bones to feel warped and mashed. He had not slept well, as lying down was more a chore than sitting up at this point. Not to mention that his dreams had taken a violent turn for the worse making sleep even more impossible than it already was.

Fluttering his eyes as he returned from his foggy, dazed half-sleep, Merlin noticed Silas performing some sort of demonstration of upper body strength by doing several push-ups one handed. His current mentor was still droning on stupidly about some sort of nonsense that he wished Merlin to perform on stage during the interview. He was running a list now of different parts that Merlin could play. Every word Silas said was becoming more and more run together and increasingly annoying.

"Sultry wouldn't work out too good for you. Bad idea, what with you bein' a beanpole an all. What about shy? Perhaps mentally defective? Poor boy? Greedy? Artistic? Dreamy? Not in the handsome way, mind you. The delirious way. Political? Ambitious? Suppose those two are the same in the end. Maybe family man? Silly? Classy?"

This spiel went on for over an hour. Silas also commented on different outfits Merlin should ask to wear, and how they would show off whatever 'make-believe' talent he was going for. Merlin, finally sick of being yelled at, discovered if he nodded his head every so often, leading Silas on, his limited vocabulary would run out of words, and he would have to let Merlin go. For once, this scheme of Merlin's had worked, and he soon departed to lie down in his room to 'think about Silas excellent ideas'. Lying, funny enough was not part of Silas list of things Merlin couldn't do.

Collapsing onto his bed, Merlin gazed out the window, mulling over what Silas had said, and contrasting his ideas with what might actually work. But nothing seemed to go together. He couldn't make himself act like someone he wasn't, unless it was someone he was.

Then, for the second time that day, Merlin had an almost exceptional idea.

Fievel came a few hours before the interview to take Merlin to where Ilona was waiting in a private dressing room. Wishing him luck, Fievel left Merlin outside the door. He knocked quietly, and upon hearing a 'Come in' entered. As he entered, Merlin saw a glimpse of the outfit he was supposed to wear mounted on a wall piece. A dapper brown suit fitted to look like the wooden trunk of a tree.

"Good Evening, if you'll sit right here, I can get started on your make-up. This time we're going for a-" As she was about to go on with the new theme of representation, Merlin cut her off.

"Actually, I wanted to try something. It's not really orthodox, but it might work." Carefully, Merlin explained what he had in mind. Though she objected at first, Merlin eventually managed to convince his stylist to see his point, and an agreement was reached. This would be a first for the Hunger Games.

Merlin, Fievel, and Elodie quickly make their way down the stairs, and headed on route to the stage. They ended up being a touch late with Merlin, as his requests were rather specific, and Beaux and Ilona had gotten into a dispute over Merlin's outfit. Beaux said it threw of the balance of the two outfits that had already been made for the District Seven Tributes. Ilona disagreed, reminding Beaux that Merlin would be going into the Games, not them, and that it should be the Tributes choice. Eventually, both stylists agreed to disagree, but let Merlin choose. However, this indiscretion had left the second half of District Seven with too little time.

Finally making it down main stairs, the team rushed to meet up with Deidre, Silas, Alfred, and Beaux, who had left on time, or perhaps even early. Out of breath, Merlin made it in line just as Deidre walked on stage. Clearly she was going for a sultry look. She wore a full length gown, coloured in the same fashion as the suit Merlin was meant to be wearing. The neckline of her dress however delved far enough down to leave little to the imagination, her chest painted over with a green glitter. It made Merlin wonder what make-up would have been added to his to include that tough of green.

The interviewer, Mrs. Stuti Stubbs, who looked fairly ridiculous in a silver, tight shirt and pant mix, gushed and raved over Deidre's dress, before finally letting her sit down to talk. A sheet of normal, peppy questions were asked, while Deidre smiled, and flipped her hair, answering the questions in as feminine a voice as she could make. This gave Merlin time to catch his breath, and hear whispers from behind him. He heared someone mention District 7, and knew instantly they were talking about him. Realizing this, he tried to zone in on what they were saying, but before he could hear anything a voice called out:

"Merlin representing District 7!" A deep, shaky breath went in through Merlin's lungs as he stepped out on stage. And all of a sudden it was quiet.

Everyone was staring at the boy in a brown jacket with a red neck-kerchief who had wandered on stage.

His buckle-covered travel boots clunked across the space as he made his way to an almost shocked looking Stuti. Then all of a sudden he was smiling. A wide, ear to ear smile. He had shocked the unshockable with the ordinary. Using his hand to rustle his half brushed hair, Merlin reached out a shook Stuti's hand before sitting down, while his other gripped the gold, cloth dragon that he had taken with him. He was in a very good mood.

"Well, don't you look comfortable?" was the first thing the interviewer could manage to say.

"I am now. Very comfortable. I was a mess backstage!" He was smiling wider, if that was possible.

"I'm glad to see you've gotten over your nerves." Stuti said as charismatically as possible. Everyone was still in a state of confusion.

"I'm glad I have to."

"Well, let's get started on the questions, shall we."

"Good idea, you ask the questions, and I will respond in as lengthy a reply as possible without actually answering your question." He bit his lip. That went a bit far. Insults and mockery don't result in sponsors, and Merlin clearly didn't know when to shut his mouth. He tried to think of a way to back-track, but for some reason, maybe it was the look of shock on Stuti's face, or simply the sheer outrageousness of the comment he had just made, or just the soaring mood he was suddenly in, he laughed. It was soft, and he covered his mouth with his hand, but you could hear it. Then suddenly, a real laugh came from Stuti. And like and infection it spread to the crowd.

And no one knew why. There was just something so genuine in every word he had said. For everything that had ever been seen, and done on this stage, the Truth had never appeared. For the first time, someone was being themself.

Finally the laughter died down enough for Stuti to start asking questions. She suddenly looked a deal more comfortable as well.

"Merlin, I was wondering, what exactly is that in your hand?" Pulling his hand up, Merlin showed the gold dragon to crowd, then to Stuti.

"This is my token." He let Stuti hold it for a moment.

"A dragon?"

"A gold Dragon."

"And how does this remind you of your district?"

"It's not supposed to remind me of my district. It's supposed to remind me of home." Another hush befell the audience, but not of an evil kind. The crowd was entranced with Merlin.

"Do you think it will bring you luck in the Games?" Merlin paused.

"No." He said after some time. "My fate does not rest on fabric dragon. It rests with me, and my choices."

"You volunteered to be here. You must have good faith in your fate?"

"I have faith in me. Maybe I don't always show it, but I believe in myself." He was almost talking to himself now. He did believe in himself.

Suddenly a bell tolled to signal the end to the interview. Merlin could swear it was earlier than three minutes, but he didn't mind. He'd said what he needed, for himself and District 7. Taking his dragon back he shook Stuti Stubbs hand again. She mouthed something as his hand left hers and realized only when he left the stage that she had wished him luck.


	7. The First Day

**A/N: I'm back! Sorry you guys had to wait so long, but I lost track of where I was going with this story, and had to figure it out again. Either way, I have a new chapter for you to enjoy. You guys are fantastic, and I really love the fact that people are still reviewing and favouriting and following even after all this time. You people make my life. So Thank You for waiting, I will try and update a lot more often seeing as summer is here.**

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><p>Merlin thought with the success of the day he would sleep better, but the fear of what was coming tomorrow morning caused a shiver to run through his body most of the night. After the interviews ended, Fievel took care to explain tomorrow's schedule. The two would be woken up at an early hour, and begin traveling towards the arena that had been chosen for this set of Games. Deirdre asked several times about what and where the location was, though Fievel mentioned several times that even he did not know the location chosen. Merlin wasn't sure he believed that, but he knew the escort certainly was not going to give anything away, whether he knew or not.<p>

His dreamless, anxious sleep was woken by a steady knocking on the door.

"Merlin, it's time. Wake up, and get dressed." As Fievel walked away Merlin stood up, already fully dressed. Maybe it was a nasty habit he had picked up from Arthur, or maybe it was his subconscious telling him something he didn't want to hear, but Merlin usually slept in his clothes the day before battle.

It was still dark out as everyone stumbled into breakfast. It could not be later than 3 in the morning. A quick, filling breakfast was had before the party headed out the door, and made their way to the carriages and horses waiting for them. Merlin was not questioned this time as he made his way towards his black horse as opposed to the carriages. Yet, as he was about to climb on, he heard his name.

"Merlin?" Alfred's soft voice reached Merlin, and he turned around to face his third mentor. He had almost forgotten he had a third mentor if truth be told, as Alfred had not said really anything to him.

"Yes, sir?" The older man seemed to be amused by the title sir, and spoke his words with a light smile.

"The day I headed out to my Games, I was wished luck by my mentor, and that is what I received. I am not going to wish that onto you though. I want to wish you courage. But do not mistake courage to be the absence of fear. That is bravery. Courage is far better. For courage is the acknowledgment of fear, and the use of it to create a state of being where you no longer fear… fear."

Merlin wasn't quite sure he understood, but the sentiment was there, and he appreciated it. Nodding his head to the older man, Merlin mounted his horse, and began to follow the carriages that were already moving. He didn't know how long the journey would take, but it was never allowed to take more than a day.

Many hours had passed since the journeys start, with various breaks, and Merlin had been able to rule out several environments based on the ones they had passed already. But with so many passed he was at a loss for where the location actually was. Finally, however, a clearing was reached in the current forest the group was traveling through, and Merlin saw where the Games were to be held.

Crumbling walls, burnt and rotted wood, and the dusty road of an abandoned castle and grounds greeted the travelers. Along with the ancient castle there was various half demolished buildings, limping trees, and a moat spread over at least one hundred acres of land. There were a million hiding places and thousands of possible environmental threats lurking in the grounds. It could be worse though, Merlin thought, though he could not figure out how much worse it could get.

A little time was given to prepare before the event started. Partner tributes were lead to 12 separate tents set up some ways away from the field to wait while the rest of the groups showed up. This time too allowed spectators to gather around the various "Onlooker's Only: At Your Own Risk" areas that had been fenced, or in some cases, walled off for spectators. Mostly people from the first Districts came to see, as the travel was expensive, but some from the other districts arrived, and even viewers who were not part of any of the Districts had been known to show up.

As Merlin was taken to his tent, a servant attempted to pull the stallion away to where the other carriages and horses were, but Merlin stopped him just as the horse began to jerk on the reigns.

"Can you tie him up by my tent?" He asked, touching the horses mane. He really was not a horse person, but the horse had stayed with him the whole time since he left, and he felt he should continue too. Grudgingly the servant agreed, tied him to a tree next to the District 7 tent.

District 7 stayed in their tent a good hour. Both tributes changed from their riding clothes to basically black versions of the outfits they had worn to training. Merlin was silent through most of it, but Deirdre seemed to find this the perfect opportunity to discuss the other tributes with anyone who would listen.

"I heard a rumor that the tribute from District 10 was on trial for murder, and instead of execution chose to volunteer for the Games. I bet he's that really big one I saw coming in." She continued on with her "I heard a rumor" monologue for quite some time bringing up information for basically every contender. Merlin tried tuning her out, but she kept looking back at him, hoping he was listening. Merlin had a hunch that most of the information she was spewing was false, and an attempt to put him off, or cause him to underestimate others, but he was not paying attention anyways, so it made no matter really.

After some time though, Fievel, who had not been with the group in the tent, re-appeared and informed Merlin and Deirdre that it was time. It was late when Merlin was lead into the arena. As he and Deirdre were placed on large, individual metal circles Fievel explained,

"These are your starting points. Do not move from them until you here the bell ring announcing the start of the games. If you do move you will be shot for cheating. Each night, to announce the death of Tributes, one bell will be rung the number of times that lines up with the District that the death occurred in. For instance, two rings for District two. Then another, different bell with ring to say whether it was a girl or a boy that died. One ring for boys, two for girls. Do you understand?"

Merlin and Deirdre both nodded. It wasn't very efficient, Merlin thought, but it got the job done.

"That's it I suppose. You have both done well, and I really do hope to see one of you at the end of this." He smiled politely, and then left them to stand in their rings. Merlin was breathing faster as he watched each of the Tributes escorts finished explaining and leave the field.

Merlin had thought, briefly, and stupidly, that when he saw all his opponents in those few moments before the Games began, he would hate them. That seeing them all want him dead would make him want to kill them as well. But it did not. Standing here now, all it made him feel was fear. Not for just himself, but for everyone there. Merlin swung his head around, and took a good look at all of them, understanding that all but one of these children was going to die within the next few days. It was a sickening feeling to realize that he was watching Dead-Men standing, and he wondered if the others were thinking the same thing.

In an attempt to distract himself, and get a look at his surroundings, Merlin drew his eyes to the large cornucopia that had been put up sometime while he was in his tent. It was surrounded and filled with a plethora of masonry, and other assorted survival gear. Merlin would have liked to think he could run in, grab as many weapons as he could carry, and disappear into the forest. But it occurred to Merlin that in the rare event that he made it to the center, and somehow got ahold of at least one weapon, the chances of him understanding how to successfully use that weapon were slim to none. So Merlin made an executive decision right then not to head towards the array of weaponry, but to run as far from danger as possible without looking back.

Heat rushed to every inch of Merlin as the last precious seconds before the start passed. Then there was one loud clang.

Merlin caught one glimpse of the rush towards the cornucopia before booking it in the complete opposite direction. He heard one viewer shout out 'Coward' as he ran faster, searching his surroundings for a good spot to stop, if there was one, and praying he did not trip over something, as he had apt to do. At last he saw it. A once majestic flat-topped tower that had eroded to disarray. It seemed dangerous to even walk in with walls that looked as though they would collapse at the slightest touch. The whole building itself had a tilt to is, giving the impression the wind could blow it over.

Merlin had never seen a more perfect place to hide in. He looked to make sure no spectators were watching, but all eyes were facing the likely blood bath that was occurring near the cornucopia at the start. Merlin was too far now to see anything happening, but he could certainly hear voices. Sure he was alone, Merlin reached out to the rounded outside wall of the tower and whispered,

"_Sine visione reparatione." _The wall shuddered, and the appearance remained the same, but clapping his hand against the wall once more, it seemed extremely stable. Smiling for a moment before hearing a loud scream, Merlin rushed to open the rotting wooden door, and steeped inside.

"_Claustrum_." Another spell and the door was locked. Merlin knew he was quite safe for the moment. Her himself would have avoided going near this tower if he could not have stabilized it, and knew others would assume the same. Stopping to catch the breath he had not realized he had lost, Merlin leaned against the wall, surveying the inside of the tower. The tower though, was mostly stairs, being too thin to really fit anything else. A winding stone staircase lead upwards, where Merlin assumed a room would be.

Pushing himself off the wall, Merlin began the trudge up to the top. Forgetting his safety spell, Merlin was still cautious going up the deeply cobwebbed staircase. He did notice that there were no cobwebs going from wall to wall, so he had to assume that someone had been here recently. Merlin nodded in remembrance of being told that all areas had to be examined to see that no weapons or provisions had been laid by other for the contestants. Eventually Merlin reached a locked wooden trap-door above his head. Unlocking it with a spell, the door flung open and revealed a small, dusty room. Climbing through and shutting the hole behind him, he looked around. It was small, with lots of empty shelves. Probably a library, or maybe a medicine room, much like Gaius' chambers. Sighing with relief, Merlin sank to the floor. The wind was bad, and the dust was awful, but it was a place to stay. Out of danger, and away from harm, for the most part.

Sounds came from outside the darkening window that told Merlin the battle over the cornucopia was mostly over, and that tributes were starting to branch out. He became startled though, when he heard shouts coming from outside the window. Careful not to be seen, Merlin peered over the ledge, and looked down. From a distance he could see two figures. He recognized the two as District 10, mostly because of the sheer size of the male figure was. Though the two were from the same team, the girl appeared to be attempting to sneak up on the male, who seemed to be cursing loudly. Merlin saw the shine of some weapon in the girl's hand as she thrust forward towards the man. But he caught her before she could do any damage. Throwing her weapon away, the male placed both hands on opposite sides of her face. Merlin turned away from the window when the girl shouted "Eogan!" Immediately after he heard the very audible sound of her neck snapping.

Slowly breathing in Merlin realized looking out the window to begin with was a poor idea. He was tired, and it was getting dark, so instead Merlin chose to lie down, and get some rest. No one will find him tonight, he told himself as he lay down of the filthy, cold floor. Not long after Merlin heard the bells Fievel had mentioned, and he knew they were announcing the death toll. It took quite a while to listen to, but Merlin could now tell that only 11 tributes remained. All the Careers save the girl from District 1 were alive. District 4 was the only team with just a female alive, while 6, 8 and 10 had only males. Merlin learned that Deirdre was still alive, making District 7 the only non-Career group to have both team-mates alive. The rest, however, were all dead.


	8. The Alliance

**A/N: Well, don't I feel sheepish. This took forever mostly because I'm having what I call "Princess Bride" syndrome where I know exactly what I want to have happen, I just don't know how to get to where that stuff can happen. But this is one of the more progressive chapters, so, we're on our way folks.**

**Many thanks to all of you who are still reading this. I really am dreadful at updating on a consistent basis, but I do try. Hope you enjoy this, and please feel free to tell me what you liked and what you didn't in a review!**

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><p>Witless dreams went missing during the night leaving Merlin with a clear conscious and a fresh start in early morning. In a dazed state between awake and asleep Merlin rose from his bed of filth. For a fraction of a second the part of his brain adjusted to a servant lifestyle told him he should start cleaning. The thought left his mind as he noticed the uncomfortable silence.<p>

Merlin stepped closer to the open window, carefully peering out into the open battlefield. As far as he could tell the land was deserted, a vast range of empty, misty grounds stretching from one destroyed land mark to the next. Merlin could not decide if this was the calm after the storm, or before it.

A low growl startled Merlin before he realized it was his stomach. Mild embarrassment aside, it occurred to the sorcerer that he had not eaten since yesterday afternoon. His mouth was dry, and his stomach empty, and the realization of this paired with Merlin's ever increasing panic levels caused a cramping pain to spread through his abdomen. The arena, of course, was likely filled with some type of edible creature; the problem was getting to these animals. Merlin quite liked the safety of his tower, but starving here might be worse than risking death out there.

Sighing deeply and debating briefly, Merlin succumbed to the inevitable, and made for the trap door. Finally reaching the end of the staircase and opening the door, a cloudy sunlight poured in. Fog was everywhere, impairing Merlin's vision. He hoped it would clear by late morning, but he had to get something to drink at least.

Merlin stepped into fog and wandered aimlessly for a few moments before adjusting to his freshly dulled senses. The only water spot Merlin could remember was the moat surrounding the castle. It was farther off than Merlin would have liked, but it was the only water source Merlin knew of, and the only one he could go for in a fog this dense.

Sporadic shoulder glances accompanied Merlin on his way to the moat. The farther he walked, however, the drier his mouth became. Merlin had been so occupied with ignoring Deidre and panicking about the games that he had forgotten how quickly running for your life can dehydrate a person. A steady percussion of one foot in front of the other became increasingly easier as the fog started to clear.

Merlin finally came into eyes-view of the moat and began picking up his pace. Moving faster, however, dampened Merlin's senses, and he didn't hear the approaching footsteps behind him. Suddenly, there was a whipping sound behind his head as some kind of weapon barely missed Merlin's skull. Spinning around, Merlin saw he was not going to be so lucky again. The attacking tribute raised the spiked club once more. Merlin racked his brain for a useful spell, but came up short. The club was inches away from Merlin's face he heard a loud crack.

From the fog Merlin made out a second figure behind his attacker. The boy with the mace buckled over as the figure behind him repeatedly hit the back of his skull with what Merlin made out as a quarterstaff. Finally, the first attacking tribute fell, blood pooling in dirt pockets as it spilled from his cracked skull. The quarterstaff bearing tribute raised his bloody weapon before approaching Merlin. The sorcerer raised his right hand, preparing to throw the tribute back, but he heard a voice.

"Are you the District 7 tribute?"

Merlin lowered his hand.

"Are you?"

"Do I have a better chance of living if I say yes, or no?"

The tribute lowered his weapon as he approached Merlin.

"You are. I'm Spero."

Spero's image became less obscure as he got closer. He was shorter than Merlin with dusky brown hair that stuck out in all directions, and a young face. "I'm from District 8. You are Merlin, right?"

"Yes. Why? Does it matter?"

Spero nodded while he quickly glanced at Merlin's image, likely to check that the former servant was not armed.

"Come on. We have to move. That was a District 3 tribute, and Careers never go it alone." The younger male grabbed Merlin by the wrist and ran him away from the moat and towards the crumbling castle. Merlin tried to wrestle his wrist free, but Spero was holding to tight. The pair made it through the castle walls before they were halted by two armed figures. Finally managing to pull his arm from its captivity, Merlin took two steps back.

"Wynthrop, Tilden! Relax, I got him." Then, much to Merlin's surprise, the tributes lowered their weapons. The taller of the two then ran for a rope pulley to the left of the entrance, and began using it to close the rickety wooden gate.

At last, all three tributes were facing Merlin, weapons held to their side.

"Merlin?"

"Yes!" Merlin was incredulous. Had these tributes formed some sadistic alliance where they torture selected victims before killing them?

Spero took a step forward as Merlin took another step back. "We're not going to hurt you. Just let me introduce everyone." He then pointed to the female tribute. "Wynthrop here is from District 4. Tilden," he explained, moving to the other figure, "is from District 6."

Merlin stood where he was, but leaned a little closer.

"This some kind of alliance?"

"Something like that. See the careers always have their own little guilds. They work in their special 'wealthy only' packs. But see I got the notion that if they're forming groups, so should we."

"We?"

Tilden stepped in this time. He was taller than everyone in the group, but much thinner. And he was awkward when he walked, as if the ground were not steady enough to keep him balanced.

"Yeah. We. The lower class. They's a'ways finkin we're set to lose. But we reckon'd if all of us go up against the careers 'ogether, we's got a much better chance." Tilden spoke slowly, as it was difficult. Merlin assumed it must have been, as the boy appeared to be visibly missing at least 5 teeth.

"You want to take out the Careers? Why did you grab me then? I'm no use to anyone."

"But people like you." Spero interjected.

"What?"

"People like you. Sure, your scores were low, but no one cares about that. They care about presentation. They care about the dramatic flair that grasps their attention. Your appearance during the opening ceremony, and what you did in the interview, that got people's attention. The capitol is watching you, because you're interesting."

It was a bizarre sensation for Merlin, to be interesting for something other than his magic. Nonetheless, the circumstances at hand gave Merlin little time to ponder the moment. "So I'm here as a… mascot?"

"Well," Spero seemed to find the comment amusing. "Yes and no."

"More of which?"

"Will you relax? I just saved you, didn't I?"

"Is that what happened? Because what I saw was you kill another tribute in order to kidnap me so you can get people to pay attention to you-"

"Alright. I'm not explaining this right. We don't want anyone to die. We just prefer that we," He said, referencing himself and the others around him, "live longer than the others."

There was a pause as Merlin contemplated the vagary he was now part of. Alliances in the games were ephemeral occurrences that lasted a day at best. Getting tangled in one never seemed a particularly safe means of going about the games, what with this not being a team event. Merlin, however, in thanks to the reasonable part of his brain, agreed that bringing that subject up was not appropriate due to his position in the current situation. Instead, Merlin blurted out a question which had bothered him since Spero led him through the gate.

"How did you get castle? And keep it? And there has to be more tributes from District 4 through 12. It can't be just the four of us."

Spero again took the lead in the answering of Merlin's questions. "We took the castle last night. Careers never saw us coming. They don't trust each other enough. They spend more time watching each other than they do their surroundings. There were more of us at that time of course. We lost Tilden's fellow tribute within a few minutes. Wynthrop's mate was with us, but halfway through tried to cross us, so we showed him what for. We also had the girl from District 11, but she died later last night of blood lose. Everyone else we either can't find, or died at the Cornucopia."

"I know tha' Dis'rict 11 an' 12 are all dead." Tilden added. "Evr'yone else we don't know. 'Sept Wynthrop an' my partners 'course."

"The girl from 10 is gone too, I think." Merlin said. Spero looked incredulous.

"You killed her?"

"No, not me. That meaty District 10 boy did. I mean, I'm just assuming it was her. She clearly knew his name."

Spero grinned. "See. You're already more than just a mascot." The shorter boy spoke while leaning to visually inspect the closed castle gate. With assurance that no careers seemed to have shown up yet, he returned to face Merlin. "So, are you with us?"

Merlin really did not see himself having much of a choice in the matter. Even so, he still gave a curt nod in response. Spero responded while handing Merlin an improvised canteen filled with water. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." The younger boy swiveled gracefully around to face the crumbling castle, his back to Merlin. "Follow me."

Merlin hesitated before following, not wanted to have his back exposed to Spero or Tilden. It was then that he recalled that he had not once heard the girl, Wynthrop speak, or do anything for that matter. His gaze darted back to her as he saw Spero whistle lightly in her direction just before she spun around walk towards the castle. As Merlin moved closer he saw why. Contrary to how well she walked, Merlin could see from the state of her eyes that Wynthrop was completely blind.

Merlin thought pensively and peevishly about how this group was probably the least likely to succeed of any alliance ever formed during the games. But, miracles can happen he argued, as he brushed past the assorted rubble that scattered the courtyard of his newest location.


	9. The News

_**A/N: **_**I'm back! Awesome. And here is another chapter for you! I really loved writing this chapter, but it was the _hardest_ to write because of all the characters. Anyway, thank you all for reading. I'm so shocked whenever I find out that someone has Favourited this, or whatever, because honestly, I would never even think that people would ever stop to read this. All of you readers, followers, reviewers, favourites, and everyone in-between are the greatest, and I am in awe of your perseverance of my mind-numbing gaps between chapters, which I am desperately trying to get better at not having. Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!**

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><p>"M<em>er<em>lin!"

Birds flittered away from window sills as Arthur clamored and crashed through his room and deposited his grungy, battered armor on the floor. Days had passed since Merlin's disappearance, yet habit forced Arthur to call the servant's name whenever he required something. Stomping indignantly around the room, Arthur threw any possession he owned to the floor, imagining the terrible night of cleaning he would thrust upon Merlin once he returned.

In this delusional rage Arthur forgot that someone else shared his room.

Gwen stood, cautious, outside the open door. A sigh expanded her lungs, and she cleared her throat gently. Arthur swung around, ready to empty his vocabulary on the intruder, and then stopped quite abruptly.

"Spring cleaning, I hope?" She suggested.

"Something like that." Arthur placed whatever object he was holding on the nearest counter and paced around the cracked and broken objects on the floor. Gwen maneuvered her way over to Arthur's side and gripped his arm.

"I know you're irritated with him. But if you stopped forcing yourself to be angry with him for five seconds you'd realize you miss him."

"Miss _him?_ I miss my laundry getting done, and my room being cleaned, and my armor being polished, and let us not forget my-"

Gwen listened to the tirade with eyes rolling. Merlin must have had reasons. He always did. Every decision her friend ever made was made after careful planning. He had told Arthur he was leaving, and then left. While she too was curious regarding his whereabouts, and worried for his health, she could respect that Merlin's life did not revolve around her and her husband's feelings and comfort. Arthur was less introspective on the matter, however.

"-bed should be made every day when I wake up. I'm the King after all!" Arthur looked to Gwen for agreement and became more agitated when he found none. "Why are you on his side?"

"On his-You are not at war with your servant Arthur! There are no sides. He left for some reason, and I believe he is coming back. He left all of his belongings, and said very few good-byes. He must have intended to return. And when he does I want nothing but gracious understanding on your part."

"Understanding? He left me to do my own laundry! Or to find someone else to do it for me."

"And I am sure his heart is breaking at the thought of you being forced to order another servant to polish your boots, but something happened, and it could have been something tragic, or unsettling for him, and if it was he does not need to return home to have you making him feel worse."

"But-"

"No. He is your friend, whether you can admit it or not, and if having him returned is what you wish for then locating him should be your top priority, no punishing him. So come, talk of war with your knights and get this business out of yourself. We have a meeting to attend."

Arthur rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, mouth in an undignified scowl, before taking the hand of his Queen.

"Alright. Merlin and I are almost friends. _Almost._ That is not the same thing as actually friends."

"Of course."

"And I am concerned about more than just punishing him, of course."

Gwen agreed with a hum.

"But he shouldn't have left. And _you are_ angry with him for leaving too even if you don't show it. So, why don't you worry for me, I'll be angry for you, and we call it even."

Gwen made a motion to object before Arthur leaned in to kiss her.

"Even? Remember, I am the King."

Gwen laughed, bemused before shaking her head and beginning the journey towards the throne room. Arthur knew all was forgiven, and quickly followed behind.

The knights should have been sitting one by one in wooden chairs surrounding the enormous circular table. Upon entering, however, Arthur noticed this was not the case. Three knights were huddled to one end.

"Percival, Leon, Gwaine, what are you doing?" Arthur demanded as he strode towards the ensemble. Gwaine moved to meet Arthur halfway.

"Sire, I got a letter this morning from a friend back at my old village. Well, I say friend, he and I really didn't get along too well. His mother didn't like me, said I was a bad influence. But we write each other every so often anyways-"

"Yes. I get the point. What did he say?"

"Well, he said something about Merlin."

Arthur froze. People rarely write about passing strangers. Gwaine said he wrote this man once in a while, which meant he could not know enough about Merlin to recognize and write about him. Why would someone write to Gwaine about seeing a random friend of his?

"What?"

"Merlin's gotten himself entered into the Hunger Games." Gwaine sounded startled, but Arthur could not understand why.

"The what?"

Gwaine and Percival both shared a look.

"They don't have them here? I mean, I guess you wouldn't."

Arthur stared blankly for a few moments before regaining some composure.

"Well, we know where Merlin is now, so send a letter for him to come back. This isn't complicated."

"No, you don't understand, we can't take him out of the games. He has to win to come back." The trio looked suddenly grief stricken, and Arthur felt his stomach tighten further.

"How does he win? _What_ does he win?"

There was a pause. Something was wrong. An invisible menace loomed over the room. Arthur could feel the tangible presence of an unknown evil. At last Leon opened his mouth to speak, and explained to his King how the game was played. A short summary involving the words combat, tributes, and death, and more words that he could not understand, regardless of is he wanted to or not. Words that meant Merlin might be alive, but he might be dead too.

Arthur panicked, and spun around to leave, then suddenly turned around and moved closer to Gwaine.

"What did that letter say and how long ago was it sent?"

Gwaine fumbled with the letter, picking out what was important, zoning in carefully on the parts about Merlin.

"Well, my friend doesn't live in the same District as Merlin, so he didn't see the Reaping, all he knows about is what he's told. So apparently Merlin did really well in showcase thing. That's why my friend heard about him. Apparently the costume malfunctioned and he ended up getting stabbed by a bunch of thorns or something-"

"What!?"

"I don't really know, but it was different and new so that story traveled _really _fast _and_ far. Then Merlin did really badly in the training portion though-

"Of course he did."

"So he got a poor rating, which isn't great in terms of getting sponsors-

"What the hell are-"

"I mean he did the worst. But then he ruffled a few feathers with his interview. I'm not really sure what happened, the letter was written right after it had happened, but I guess he didn't play along. He just sort of… showed up. No outfit. No identity. Nothing. He also sort of insulted everyone involved in the Hunger Games-"

Arthur groaned loudly. How could Merlin screw up what seemed like the easiest part of this competition.

"No, this is good." Leon interjected. "There are 24 tributes in this game, and the only person anyone seems to be talking about is Merlin. He's popular, so people might get a bit upset if he dies. He could get quite a few sponsors because of that."

Arthur's face fluctuated between disgust and confusion. Merlin was in a game where he could, and probably would die, and Leon and Gwaine were concerned with some sort of sponsors?

"We have to go after him."

"We can't, sire." Percival at last joined in on the conversation.

"What is the issue now?" Spite bit into everyone word Arthur let escape.

"The games are not part of your kingdom, sire. We cannot invade another realm without outright declaring war. And if you try to simply take Merlin out of the games, other tributes will want to leave too. It could start an uprising, or rebellion."

"Good!"

"No, not good!" It was Gwaine this time. "Because that rebellion will fail and die, and then a whole lot of angry rich people are going to come after you and your kingdom. I don't fancy going to war against people who watch kids kill each other for fun."

"So what are you telling me the only course of action I can take is to sit and wait for another letter from Gwaine's sort-of friend telling us whether Merlin is alive or dead?"

Another awkward pause. Another tangible evil. An unspoken yes.

Arthur felt the gnawing desire to leave the room. He turned to Gwen, who had been listening silently to the conversation from a distance, but Gwen had already moved herself closer to the cluster.

"Can we not send one of you too help him? Maybe even outside the arena?"

All three knights shook their heads.

"We could be spectators, but we could not interfere with the games." Percival explained.

Gwen thought carefully, and thoroughly. No help from outsides, and Merlin had no training himself. Was he even still alive? The Queen moved to her rightful seat at the table, and stood to face the assembly.

"Does anyone here have relations in any of the Districts associated with the Hunger Games?"

There was a muffled shock, followed by several variations on the word yes.

"Excellent. The King and I are requesting that all of you write as soon as possible to these relations and gather as much raw knowledge as possible about this year's game. There is a competitor we know that we would like to see returned to us. Remember to ask this relation about a tribute named Merlin."

Gwen nodded to her husband, gentle and sure. She would make this right any way she knew how. Arthur, however, still looked bothered. It wasn't enough to only know about what was happening. Gwen could feel his desire to help, but how could he help without putting Merlin at risk; without putting the kingdom at risk?

"Also, what do any of you know about how the sponsor system works?"


End file.
